Missing
by J2MAlwaysForever
Summary: Pre-series fic. Teen!Chester. Dean- 16 Sam- 12. John goes missing on a hunt. Dean and Sam have never done a hunt by themselves before. Will Sam and Dean be able to work together and find their father on time? Hurt!John Limp!Dean Limp!Sam Angsty!Dean Angsty!Sam Protective!John
1. Chapter 1

_Dean_

Dean Winchester sat at the table in his motel room, twirling his phone in his hands. His pistol sat on the table beside him as his little brother Sam slept soundly on one of the two queen sized beds in their motel room in Chesterton, Indiana. As much as Dean hated being in motel rooms, he couldn't complain about this one. It was well kept, clean, even came with its own little kitchen area. The only things wrong with it were the cold showers, the chipped paint in the walls, and the occasional static t.v., but those were all things Dean could live happily with. Truth is, this was the best home he's had in months. He'd settled into this place nicely. He and Sam had both started school here and they'd both ended up making a couple good friends, which was a rare occurrence for the both of them. If they weren't hunting all the time, Dean wouldn't mind living here.

"C'mon Dad, where the hell are you?" Dean whispered to himself, not taking his eyes off his phone, hoping it'd light up with a call. It'd been two weeks since Dad had disappeared on a hunt and Dean had gotten no word from him. That wasn't like his father. Sure, his father rarely ever called, but he never was gone two straight weeks. If there was a delay in the hunt, Dad would've called after the first week to at least let him know he was going to be late. Dean had a feeling deep in his gut that something was very wrong.

With a sigh, Dean stood up and paced back and forth across the room. He rechecked the salt lines on the door and windows, doing anything to keep his mind off his missing father. Dean wanted to call, more than anything he wanted to call his dad, but he couldn't. He had to show his dad that he trusted him and he had too much pride to say he was worried. He knew chances were his dad was fine because his dad was always fine. The investigation was probably just taking longer than expected. Any minute now, John would be walking through that door asking for a beer and then would launch into his tale of the hunt, just like he always did.

Just then, Sammy rolled over from the bed and groaned. For a moment, Dean thought he'd woken him, but when all he could hear was Sam's deep breathing, he knew he was still asleep. Dean stood there for a moment, just watching his little brother sleep. He almost laughed seeing the books sprawled out across the bed. Sam had spent all night studying. The kid could be such a nerd. He'd asked about Dad a few times too, and all Dean could tell him was that he hadn't heard anything, but he was sure Dad was fine. He could tell Sammy was worried, and he hated it. He just wanted his dad back.

Dean sighed and decided he better try and get some sleep before the next day. It was already three in the morning. Dean lied down on the other bed, keeping his gun tucked tight underneath his pillow. He always slept on the side closest to Sam's bed. If anything, or anyone, tried attacking them through the night, they'd be dead before they hit the ground.

" _Watch out for Sammy_." That was what John always told Dean before he left for a hunt.

And that was always what Dean did.

"Dean, wake up," a voice said, causing Dean to jump. He opened his eyes to the face of his little brother standing in front of him, already looking irritated. Dean groaned, shoving Sam's hands away from him. His eyes felt like they were being pinned shut. Dean didn't remember what time he fell asleep, but he knew it couldn't have been long ago. All he wanted was one more hour…

"C'mon, Dean!" Sam yelled this time, shaking him some more. "We're going to be late for school and I have an algebra test first class!"

"Alright, alright!" Dean yelled back, sitting up in his bed. For a moment he just sat there, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I swear you're the only kid I know that gets excited for a test."

Dean looks up at his little brother and sees a grin spread across his face. "That's because I am the only kid you know," he said with a laugh.

"Shut up," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He kept his blue and white plaid shirt that he fell asleep in on and threw on a new pair of denim jeans. As he was lacing his boots, he watched Sam rummaging through the fridge. "Hey get me something, would ya? A body as good as mine needs fuel to run, Sammy."

"We're all out of food, Dean," Sam said, a solemn look on his face. "All we have are cheese slices and Dad's beer."

Dean sighed, trying to hide the pain that caused him. He hated not having any food for Sam. There was nothing he hated more than the sound of Sam's stomach grumbling at night. Their dad was supposed to bring home groceries after this hunt. Yet another reason why Dean was worried. They'd been low on food before, but Dad had always made sure they had at least something to sustain them until he ran some more credit card scams and got them more cash. All Dean had was about a hundred bucks and he didn't know how long he'd need that to last them.

"Alright, let's stop at the gas station then," Dean answered, playing it off cool like he always did. "I could use some pie anyways."

The car ride to school was silent for the most part. Dean ate his pie and Sam busied himself in his books, cramming for the algebra test he had first period. Dean took the time to enjoy the ride in the Impala. There was no greater feeling to Dean than taking a cruise in his Baby with Sammy and his dad, listening to classic rock, and eating some damn good pie or a nice juicy cheeseburger while he did so. That was his paradise. He almost had a heart attack when his dad gave him the keys for his sixteenth birthday. It was the best gift his dad had ever given him.

"Hey, Dean?" His twelve-year-old brother asked from the passenger seat, breaking the silence. Dean looked over at his brother and already knew the question. Dean knew everything about his little brother, and by the slight frown on his face and his brown eyes, just a bit wider than normal, Dean could tell he was worried. "Have you heard from Dad? Shouldn't he be back by now?"

Dean was silent a moment, choosing his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Sam. "No, I haven't," he answered truthfully. "but, I'm sure Dad's fine. He's been late before." Dean had to avert his eyes solely to the road. He couldn't look at his brother and tell him honestly that he was convinced his dad was okay.

"Yeah, but this late?" Sam asked, echoing Dean's concerns. "And he usually calls."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean answered, getting agitated. "I'm sure he just got caught up. He's a busy man, probably just forgot. Hell, he's probably on the way back home right now."

"Don't you think we should call him?" Sam pressed.

Dean sighed. "No, Sam. We have no reason to. It's just another hunt. Hunts are as easy as riding a bike for Dad. He probably just had to do a little more investigating. You never know what you'll run into on a hunt." Dean wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort Sam or himself more.

"Dean, how can you be so sure he's not in trouble?" Sam asked. Dean could tell by the way his already high-pitched voice was rising that he was getting worked up. Dean chanced a glance at his brother and saw his eyes dampening. "He could be hurt right now, alone. Dean, for all we know he could be—"

"Dad's fine!" Dean bellowed, his deep voice bouncing off Baby's windows. He'd definitely been given his dad's voice. "I mean, come on Sam, this is Dad we're talking about! He wouldn't let a monster get the freakin' drop on him. If Dad was in trouble he'd have found a way to tell us."

Sam didn't answer, so Dean looked over. Sam was staring at the window and Dean could see tears streaking down his young face. Dean sighed, instantly feeling guilty. All he wanted to do was comfort Sam and instead, he made the poor kid cry. Dean was lying to his brother and to himself saying he wasn't worried. Maybe it was time he did find out…He'd take whatever scolding he got from his dad if it meant knowing he was okay and that he could reassure Sam. He refused to have his brother worrying himself sick like Dean was.

"Okay," Dean said, calming himself down. "If we don't hear anything from Dad by tonight, we'll call alright?"

Sam glanced at his brother and nodded, wiping away some of his tears that he was trying so hard not to let fall. "Okay, Dean," he said, and then that was the end of the conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

That day at school was the longest of Dean's life. The entire day all he could think about was his father. What if he was in trouble? What if he was hurt? What if he got in a car accident? Hell, what if he was in jail? The thoughts wouldn't stop. He stayed to himself all day, avoiding anyone and everyone, so consumed with worry that he felt nauseous. He couldn't even take the time to admire Lacy Veda's short skirt and crop top, or eat lunch. Those things were unheard of for Dean. Damn it, why couldn't his dad just call?

Dean never thought the time would come for him to pick his brother up from middle school. He raced there as fast as he could and his brother was already waiting for him. The only thing Sam had asked about on the way home was if Dean had heard anything. Dean knew Sam was worried just as much as he was now. This just wasn't normal. Dean hoped for the best, like maybe he'd run into car trouble and was stuck in a mechanic's shop and his phone was dead, but he expected the worst. Their dad always found a way to get a hold of them if he had to. He'd never just leave them.

As soon as Sam and Dean returned to the motel room, Dean pulled out his phone. Neither of them could stand the wait any longer. They had to find out if their dad was okay. It was killing the both of them not knowing.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at his little brother. If Dad really was in trouble, how was he supposed to tell his little brother? Sure, Sam and Dad had their fights, but Sam was still his son and Dean knew the both of them loved each other. They were just too much alike. That much was evident no matter how much Sam denied it.

"Just do it, Dean," Sammy said, his eyes not leaving Dean's phone.

Dean nodded and dialed his father's number with shaky hands. It was now or never.

The phone started ringing and Dean just stared at his brother. Sam watched him anxiously, his eyes never averting from Dean's face. He looked like he was about ready to pass out from anticipation. The longer the phone rang, the more Dean began to worry.

"Come on, Dad, answer damn it," Dean swore under his breath.

After six long rings, the phone went to voicemail. Sam's face fell as soon as Dean shook his head at him, letting him know the bad news. Dean let the message play and waited for the beep before speaking. "Hey, Dad. Call me when you get this. It's important." Dean didn't care if his message worried his father. Whatever got Dad to call them back was fine with him.

Dean saw Sam's worried eyes and grimaced. "I'm sure Dad's okay, Sam. He doesn't answer his phone all the time. We probably just got him during a bad time."

Sam folded his arms and glared at his big brother. "Can you honestly say that to me and believe it?"

For a moment, Dean eyed his brother. "No…." he finally answered, admitting his fears to both Sam and himself. "No, I can't."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked, desperation working its way into his voice. Dean honestly didn't know how to answer his question. He'd never been in this situation before, never even expected to be. But now he was, and it was real. His dad needed them both, and it was up to them to save them. His dad had taught Dean a lot about hunting over the years. He could do this. He had no choice.

"Let me call Bobby," Dean said, thinking on the spot. "If anyone knows where Dad might be, it's him."

"I didn't think Dad and Uncle Bobby talked anymore?" Sam asked, confused.

"they don't," Dean said with a sigh, remembering the night his dad and Bobby had their falling out. It was one of the worst nights of Dean's life. He missed Bobby like family. He'd been a second father to the both of them and was always there when either one of them needed them. It was the reason he and his father had a falling out in the first place. Dad didn't like Bobby telling him how raise the two of them.

"But, when it comes to a hunt, Dad wouldn't hesitate to call Bobby. It's strictly business," Dean finished. "If Bobby hasn't heard anything, I'll call Pastor Jim and Caleb, and if neither of them have heard anything…well, it looks like we're going to have to find him ourselves, Sammy."

Sam nodded and Dean could see him trembling with nerves. "Okay," Sam said quietly, his voice just as shaky as his body. "Call Bobby."

Dean didn't say anything and punched in Bobby's number this time. Fortunately, Dean heard the sound of the phone being picked up on the third ring. "Aw crap," Bobby's voice said from the other end of the line. "What's wrong, son?"

For a split second, Dean smiled, hearing the voice of his ornery surrogate father. It'd been too long. Unfortunately, Dean didn't have time to waste catching up with him. "It's good to hear from you too, Bobby," Dean answered sarcastically.

"Don't get me wrong, Dean, it's great to hear from you. I miss you and Sam like hell, boy. But, I know you got too much pride to be callin me just to chit chat. So, what's going on? Is Sam okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, me and Sam are fine," Dean answered. "I was just wondering if you've heard anything from my dad. He left on a hunt a couple weeks ago and we haven't heard anything since. We tried to get a hold of him, but no answer."

The line was silent for a moment. "BALLS!" Bobby finally answered. "I talked to your dad last week. Said he was heading out to Holdredge, Nebraska. Thought he'd gotten wind of a werewolf case, his first ever. That was all I've heard from him."

Dean scratched at his head, feeling a migraine coming on. "Slow down, Bobby. Did you just say werewolf? Those are real?"

"Werewolves?!" Sam yelled, distracting Dean from Bobby. He tugged on his arm desperately. "Dean, what's he saying!"

It was like Dean could practically hear Bobby swearing up a storm on the other end of the line. "Yer Daddy never told you about werewolves?"

"Obviously not, but please feel free to enlighten me," Dean responded, trying not to run out of patients. He decided to put the phone on speaker, figuring whatever Bobby had to say would be too much to repeat. Sam calmed down instantly, and the both of them leaned in close to the speaker of the phone.

"Well, long story short, werewolves are real and they're scary as hell. They're what'd you expect in any nightmare horror flick, complete with the claws and fangs. Enhanced agility, speed of light, strong as hell, heightened senses with a stamina like you wouldn't believe. If they're regular werewolves, they'll shift only on full moons; pure bloods closer to the Alpha in age can shift at any time. For the most part they look the same, except the claws and fangs come out and yellow eyes start to show. They feed on human hearts and can infect someone with a bite when they're turned. Some travel alone, some travel in packs. Only way to kill the sons of bitches is silver to the heart."

Dean and Sam shared a look. Neither of them could believe what they were hearing. Werewolves? The thought was absurd to Dean.

"So do you think my dad ran into a pack? I can't see just one werewolf getting the drop on him," Dean said, trying to comprehend all of the information. If it was his dad's first time hunting them, it would be more believable that he ran into trouble. Dean hated the gut wrenching feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. If they hurt his father…

"Could be," Bobby answered. "Or a pack of pure bloods, which would be much worse. Listen, Dean, I'm wrapping up a hunt in Montanna with Caleb and Pastor John. As soon as I finish up helping them, we'll make our way to where you are. We'll all go find your daddy together."

"Bobby, that's at least a day's drive!" Dean yelled. "Dad might not have that long!"

"We can't just sit here and wait, Bobby!" Sam agreed.

"Well ya ain't got much of a choice," Bobby said, no lightness left in his voice. "Listen close boys, more than anything I want to up and leave right now and help you find your dad, but that ain't an option. We can't abandon these people up here. It won't take the three of us longer than a night to get rid of the wendigo up here in Montanna, and then I promise you we'll be on our way. But, you boys have to promise me something."

"What?" The both of them answered simultaneously.

"You boys promise me you won't go searching for your daddy by yourself. I know you think you know what you're up against, but you don't. if something got the drop on your dad, it means they're tough. John wouldn't want you wrapped up with them. Me and John might not always see eye to eye on things, but there's no denyin he's a damn good hunter. His instincts will keep him alive. Besides, If he weren't, I'm sure we'd have all heard from his pissed off spirit already. You boys understand though? No looking for your father without me. That's an order."

Sam and Dean looked at eachother before Dean finally sighed.

"Okay, fine. We'll wait," Dean answered, hating the words as he said them.

"Good boys. I'll call you when I'm on the way," Bobby said and then ended the call.

When the call was finished, Sam looked up at his brother. "Are we really going to wait for Bobby?"

A small smirk spread across Dean's face. "What do you think?"

The same smirk mirrored on Sam's face. Dean could tell he was relieved. "Good. I'll grab all the weapons."

"I'll get the keys," Dean responded.

No way in hell were the boys going to leave their father.


	3. Chapter 3

John

A splash of cold water on his face stirred John Winchester from unconsciousness. He groaned, feeling pain in almost every part of his body. He struggled to open his eyes, as they were blackened and crusted with blood that had caked over night from his temple. He shuddered; they'd made the room ice cold to make him extra miserable. Only one window and a light lit the room. His whole body was screaming at him. He'd only been fed once a day and gotten a water bottle twice a day for the past three days. His body was shutting down on him. He had to get out of here soon.

"Morning sunshine," the leader of the Alpha pack said to him.

John looked up at the Alpha. He was in his human form today. He was a scary looking guy. He stood about 6'7, 260 pounds; huge compared to John's 6'3, and muscular. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his body. He was all brawn, not to mention his superior strength and agility he held over John anyways. Tribal tattoos covered his body, even the sides of his bald head had them. He wore simple clothes, a cut-off shirt with jeans and boots, always wearing a large Cross chain. If John hadn't seen his yellow eyes and wolf claws, he'd have thought he were in some sort of gang. Turned out he was, just not the type of gang John had expected.

"Is the big bad wolf here to finally kill me?" John taunted. He really wasn't in the mood for conversation. He had one thought on his mind and one thought only and that was his boys. They were probably worried sick about him. He'd been gone way too long. John hoped with all his soul that Sam and Dean were alright. John hated being gone more than a day, let alone two weeks. John remembered when his father abandoned him, remembered the emptiness, the betrayal he felt. He'd never felt more alone and more vulnerable in his life. He hoped with everything he had, that his boys weren't having those same feelings. It tore John apart just thinking about his boys being on their own, feeling the way he had so many years ago. John swore he'd never be like his father when he had kids of his own.

The man smiled slyly, moving John's thoughts to the side for a moment. "Not quite, Johnnyboy. Just comin in to check on you. After that last beating you had us quite worried. Wasn't sure if you'd wake up."

John scoffed. "Right. Well, don't worry sweetheart. It's going to take more than a pack of wolves to take this dog down." It took all his energy to hold his head up. They had hung him from the ceiling, his hands bound together by iron shackles connected to the ceiling by chain. His feet were inches above the ground, and he could feel the iron rubbing against his wrists. Without his Marine training, John didn't think he'd have been able to withstand it for three days. To John, a breaking point didn't exist unless he was dead.

The Alpha, Roland, laughed. "You've got some balls, don't you John?" he mused. "I respect that, I really do. Too bad you let this pack of wolves get the drop on you. I don't know about you, but for someone known as one of the best hunters to ever live, that seems pretty reckless to me."

Roland had a point. It was stupid for John to believe that the wolf he killed was just a lone purebred. There was hardly ever a time a purebred traveled alone based from what he read. He just didn't see any signs of others. There were only a few deaths, all similar, systematic, and they were all spread out. Everything John found always led to the one female werewolf. Turned out, the pack knew John was in town and had planned it that way; they just hadn't planned on John getting the female. He hated himself for being so stupid. It was his first time on a werewolf case, but it was still no excuse. Always be prepared. For anything and everything, Winchester. That was what his drill sergeant had told him, and it was a lesson he always instilled in his boys. This should've never happened.

"Maybe this is all part of my master plan," John said, keeping his cool.

"I'm sure it is," Roland responded, not at all phased by John's words. "But anyways, let's get back to business Johnny. We need to discuss your punishment for killing one of our pack."

John grinned. "What? Torture isn't enough?"

"Not quite," Roland responded and began pacing around the room. "See, that werewolf you killed, she was part of our pack which is bad enough," he began, his brown eyes staying on John's green, "But she was my mate. Do you know what that feels like John? To mate with someone for life? It's a bond that can't be broken. A love so strong, that the other would kill the entire world to be with them. So you, killing my mate? Well, John, I just can't have that."

John was silent. He thought back to when his Mary was alive. He loved her more than anything in this entire world. He would've done anything for her; all she ever had to do was ask. She was his light after the war; she was his whole heart. They created two beautiful boys together. Her passing only seemed to strengthen his love for her because he desperately craved it. Desperately craved her touch, her words of comfort, her gentle soul. They'd created two beautiful boys together. He loved her so much, his life was now focused on finding the monster that killed her, on getting revenge for her death. His love for Mary was eternal.

"How about a one on one fight?" John proposed. "You'd have the advantage. If I win, I get to go scott free and I'll leave your pack alone. If you win, you get the pleasure of ripping my guts out. It's what you want right?" It was true; Roland would have a huge advantage over John, but John would still fight like hell. And if he won, he might walk away now, but he'd come back with a vengeance for his pack. Roland had little clue about the silver knife jammed deep in his boot. If he did all his maneuvers right and outsmarted Roland instead of relying on pure strength, he might be able to get the drop on him. That knife was the only shot he had at getting back to his boys, and he had to try. For Sam and Dean.

Roland didn't seem to like the idea, though. He only laughed in John's face. "Do you think I'm stupid John? Even if you did win, why would I trust you'd just leave my pack alone? I know you're trapped, but you're still one of the best. I wouldn't be surprised if you had something up your sleeve. No, John. My pack and I have a better plan."

"Oh yeah?" John asked, ignoring the stabbing feeling in his temple and the pain shooting down his back. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He was just so hungry. But John Winchester refused to show his vulnerabilities. "And what's that?"

A smile spread across Roland's face as he began pacing again. John was starting to get tired of this game now. Roland cleared his throat. "Word travels about you John Winchester. You're ruthless. You'll kill any and every monster that gets in your way. We know about your wife, about your desperate need for vengeance."

"Okay and?" John spat, all amusement wiped from his voice. No one talked about his wife; especially not a damn monster.

"Annnnnd," Roland continued. "I was thinking; How would someone with that much hatred built up inside feel if he became the very thing he hate?"

That made John stop cold. Roland eyed him, watching as the idea settled in John. Was he serious? Would he really turn him into a monster? John shuddered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold. John wouldn't be able to live with himself as a werewolf. He wouldn't become a monster. He'd rather die by his own hands.

"If you turned me, what would stop me from tearing you apart?" John finally responded, trying to keep his voice from shanking. "We'd be nearly even."

Roland cackled. John wanted nothing more than to kill that sonofabitch. "Oh, don't worry John, I've thought this all through. We'll still keep you tied up; we'll strengthen your restraints. And then, we'll bring you human hearts, and you'll feed because you won't be able to help yourself, not as a newborn. You'll know what it truly feels like to be a monster, to be truly damned to Hell. And then, we'll kill you. If you're lucky, you may even get your one on one before we put you down like the dog you really are."

John did his best to remain unfazed, but he was shaken to the core. "That sounds fun and all," John began. "But, I think I'll pass. I'm going to get out of here, Roland, and when I do, I'm going to kill you, just like I killed your mate. I'm going to make you scream, just like she did. She was screaming your name you know, begging for you to come save her. She died thinking you failed her."

That triggered Roland. John watched his face turn to stone. "You're going to regret that," Roland said, his tone deadly. Then, his eyes turned yellow. John saw the claws come out of his hands, the wolf fangs protruding from his mouth. He charged at John, his mouth wide open and John realized what was coming. He started jerking side to side violently, desperately trying to break his shackles. He fought as hard as he could, but no matter how hard he tried, they wouldn't break. He roared in an outrage. He would not become one of those things.

The next thing he knew, John was feeling Roland's claws digging into the back of his neck. John roared in pain as Roland whipped John's head to the side, creating a opening for Roland. "Welcome to the pack, Johnny," Roland said and bent down to sink his teeth in.

"WAIT! WAIT!" A voice said as soon as Roland's teeth reached John's neck. "ROLAND, STOP!"

Thankfully, Roland did. "WHAT, MAX!" Roland screamed at the member of his pack.

John opened his eyes, seeing Max motioning for Roland to come to him. "Sorry boss, but it's important," was all Max said. John felt the claws release from his neck and he feel like he could breathe again. He watched closely as the two of them spoke in hushed whispers. Whatever Max was saying seemed to be pleasing Roland. John was sure that wasn't a good thing.

When they finished talking, Roland hugged Max as a brother would to another and then Max left the room. Roland turned back to John, seeming relaxed now. He was back in his human form; the amusement back in his eyes.

"Good news, Johnny. You're saved for now. Turns out one of my boys saw your sons at the diner today. Seemed to be looking for you."

That made John's blood run cold. What the hell were his boys doing here?! And by themselves?! What were they thinking?! Did they even know what they were up against?! Panic took over John, his heart rate rising. He suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. No way would Sam and Dean be able to handle an Alpha pack alone. They'd never even been up against werewolves.

"Ahhhh, so he does break," Roland mused, seeing the obvious concern on John's face.

"if you hurt a hair on either one of my boys' heads, I swear to God, Roland, I will tear your pack apart piece by piece in front of you and then I will rip your heart out of your chest," John threatened, instantly furious. He was trembling. If any of them hurt Sam or Dean…

Roland laughed. "I like that fire in you, John. Don't worry though, we won't hurt your precious boys just yet." He bent down in front of John's face and John saw the pure evil in his eyes. For the first time since being captured, John felt absolutely terrified. "First, we'll capture them, bloody em up a little, but nothing too serious. And then, we'll turn them instead. Make them the monsters you hate so dearly. Then, when your boys are one of us, we'll see how you feel about destroying all of us. That sound good, Johhnycake?"

A white hot rage erupted in John and he spit on Roland's face. Roland didn't seem to care, as he just smiled and wiped the spit from his face.

"I'll see you soon, John. And don't worry, this time I'll have company," he said and sent a punch directly to John's temple.

A wave of dizziness hit John, but not all of it was from the punch. "YOU LEAVE MY BOYS ALONE! YOU HEAR ME, ROLAND! YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE!" He screamed as Roland left the room. When he was gone, John broke, feeling the tears coming to his eyes. He knew Roland meant what he said. He'd do anything to get back at him for the death of his mate. John couldn't get the image of his boys being hurt out of his head. He had never felt so sick to his stomach, never felt such a rapid beat to his heart .His boys were all he had left. He couldn't live without them. Damn it, when was the last time he even told them he loved them? Or how proud he was of them both? If Roland really did turn them…

John had to find a way out of here. He had to save his boys. Before it was too late.


	4. Chapter 4

(just a short chapter before the start of the climax. Thanks for all the reviews and comments so far :). Hope you enjoy the end!)

 _Dean_

Sam and Dean sat at the local diner in Holdrege. By all the stares he and his brother got when they walked in, Dean could tell this was one of those towns where everyone knew everyone and outsiders didn't belong. As much as Dean hated everyone eyeballing him and his brother, small towns like this worked to their advantage. Chances were at least one person in here would know something about the disappearances; and even better, someone should know _something_ about their father.

"You find anything useful?" Dean asked Sam as he took a huge bite out of his juicy cheeseburger. Sam's head was buried in a stack of local newspapers from the past week they'd picked up at the gas station. Dean had a few on his side as well, but his burger had been calling his name from the moment he walked in. Sam's fries and turkey 'whatever' as Dean knew it by, was still sitting next to him, practically untouched. Dean wanted the kid to eat. He knew he was hungry.

Sam looked up from his paper at Dean. "You want to ask me again when your done inhaling 2,000 calories of grease?"

Dean was taken aback. "No?" he answered. "Come on, Sammy! Time's awastin'...Just tell me what you found …bitch."

"Jerk," Sam responded instantly. He looked back up and saw Dean's eyes staring expectantly at him. "Alright, alright. All it says is there's been three disappearances over the past week and half or so. Two out of the three were women in their early twenties. One was a guy, same age. Wendy Reynolds, Samantha Boyer, and Brett Julliard. No relations to each other by the looks of it."

"Does it say where they were last seen?"

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah, but it doesn't say much. All it says is they were—"

"Can I get you boys anything else? Apple pie is our special."

Dean looked up at the waitress, an old woman with dark brown hair and nothing but a smile on her face. He returned the smile. "Sweetheart, you know the way to my heart. I'll take two pieces."

"Sure thing," the waitress responded and disappeared.

Sam laughed. "Jesus, Dean. You're going to have a heart attack by the time you're 25."

"If it's because of pie, then I hope so," Dean joked. He turned his head thoughtlessly to the side then, and noticed a man at the counter staring at him. There was no denying he was staring directly at them. The guy was middle-aged, his hair already greyed. He had a short crew cut, looked strong. Dean figured either a cop or military…or werewolf. Dean subtly reached to the back of his waist and made sure his pistol was still tucked in his jeans. He loaded it with silver bullets before they had even gotten to town. Sam had one of Dad's extras. Not to mention, Dean replaced he and Sam's knives on the table with actual silver while the waitress wasn't looking. He'd switch them back before he left, but they had to be prepared for anything.

"Hey Sammy, tough dude at the bar keeps eyeing us," Dean told his brother.

"More-so than everyone else?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, smartass. He's not even looking away when I look at him."

"You think he's a wolf?"

The waitress returned with the pie then and set it down in front of Dean. Dean closed his eyes and took in the glorious smell of freshly warmed pie in front of him. He could practically _taste_ the warm apples sliding down his throat already.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean said, stopping the waitress as she began to walk away. He nodded towards the man at the counter. "Who's that?"

The woman smiled pleasantly. "Well, that's the town sheriff, doll. Mike Benalli."

Dean nodded, feeling a little bit better. Maybe the guy just thought they were trouble makers. If he really was the sheriff, then chances were their father would've gotten in contact with him. Dean saw Sam's eyes and knew that they were both in agreement about their next move. "Think you could tell him we want to talk to him?" Dean asked, in the nicest voice he could muster.

Sharlene smiled. "I'll let him know."

A few moments later, the sheriff approached the table. "Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asked, his voice gruff. Dean could tell this guy was all business.

Dean cleared his throat. He had to make sure his story was believable and needed to sound confident as well. This was a cop he was talking to. He could probably sniff a liar a mile away. "Yes sir," Dean spoke. "My name's Dean, and this is my brother, Sam," he said, gesturing to Sammy. Dean could tell he was nervous by the way his nose twitched. It was trademark Sammy. "Our father came here, to investigate the disappearances. We haven't heard from him in a while. My brother and I were starting to get worried."

"Is Agent Morrow your father? Henry Morrow?" The sheriff asked.

Dean smiled. His father had used that alias before. He'd seen it in his bag. "Yes sir," Dean answered. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"About four days ago, now that I think of it," the sheriff answered. "Said he was going to go check out an old, shutdown, warehouse near the edge of town."

"Why?" Sam asked. Dean shot him a look. His brother was smart, even more eloquent, and he trusted him with his life, but he was still a kid. Dean felt better being the one to talk. He tended to get more honest answers that way.

Sure enough, the sheriff hesitated. "I'm afraid I can't share that with you, son," he said. "The case is still under investigation."

"Okay, fine," Sam answered, causing Dean to bury his head in his hands. He knew his brother had more to say. "But, can you explain to me why you haven't gone to look for him, especially if you hadn't heard anything in a few days?"

Dean looked back up at the Sheriff. His brother had a point. What kind of cop was this dude?

"Look," the sheriff replied, mocking Sam's clipped tone. "The FBI don't run through this town often, so when they do we let them take over. We'll do our part keepin the town safe and when he needs to get a hold of us or vice versa, we'll get a hold of each other. Besides, I've always got a patrol in that area. If there woulda been anything suspicious, we'd have known about it."

Dean looked at his brother and they both seemed to share a look. They didn't trust this dude at all. The dude had given him bad vibes to begin with, but now he knew something was up with this guy. No cop would just quit investigating when their own townspeople were being taken. He'd want to know anything and everything about the investigation and wouldn't leave the FBI alone until he'd gotten the information he wanted. His dad had always told him that working together with the cops is what gets the best results, so the sheriff telling him quite the opposite just didn't add up.

"Where's my dad then?" Dean asked. "We still haven't heard from him in over a week?"

"I don't know, kid," the sheriff answered. He was starting to tap his foot impatiently. "But if you want to leave me your number, I'll let you know if I find anything out."

Dean was silent for a moment. "No, that's okay," Dean replied. "He's probably just on a bender somewhere. You know how agents can be," he said lamely. "I'm sure we'll hear from him soon."

The sheriff nodded. "Well, alright then," he said, and then began to walk away.

"Hey, wait!" Sam called, and the sheriff stopped, turning around. Sam held out his hand and planted what Dean knew was a fake smile on his face. "Thank you, for the help sir," he said.

The sheriff eyed him, confused, before shaking Sam's hand. He only shook it for a moment before cringing and pulling his hand away from Sam quickly. "Ouch!" he said, and then quickly masked his face. "Sorry, forgot I have a burn there. Damn cigarettes. You boys take care now," he said and hurried out quickly.

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking at his brother. "What was that all about? Why was he all of a sudden 'mister nice guy?'"

Sam smiled slyly and showed his silver knife from inside his jacket sleeve. Dean smiled back at his brother. Now, they knew he was a werewolf. Making a sheriff one of them was a smart move. It'd keep them all under-wraps and they could find out just about anything about the townspeople that they wanted. These guys were good.

"Sammy, you sly dog," Dean whistled. He was proud of his brother. That was a good move. He never even noticed Sammy putting it up his sleeve. Apparently, the sheriff hadn't either.

"He told us exactly where Dad went. You think it's a trap?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I know it is," Dean answered. "But he doesn't know that we know."

Sam grinned. "Let's go, then."

"We'll go tonight, so we don't draw too much attention," Dean answered. "Besides, if Dad wasn't alive, I've got a feeling his spirit would be chewing us both a new one right now."

"You think so?" Sam asked, sounding hopeful for the first time since they'd realized Dad was actually missing.

"Know so," Dean answered, confidently. "Now, sit back and eat your damn sandwich, Sammy. I want to enjoy my pie."


	5. Chapter 5

_Dean_

It was night now and the boys were parked a distance away from warehouse. They could see the outline of it in the dark and the small woods around it, but that was it. Dean couldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't nervous. His rapid heart beat told him as much. However, he could lie to Sam. He did his best to hide his fear from him. He didn't want his brother to be any more worried than he already was. Sammy needed to stay focused, confident.

Sam took a deep breath next to him. "I can't believe we're walking right into a trap," He said, his voice shaky. "Dad's going to kill us."

Dean nearly laughed, imagining the pissed off look on his father's face at seeing them here; but he couldn't laugh. He was too worried. "Me either," he said quietly. "But remember, we have the advantage here." He put his head down. "Sammy, listen…I think maybe I should take you back."

"What?!" Sammy asked incredulously. "Dean, I'm not leaving."

"It's just, I don't know, Sammy, it's dangerous," Dean began. Truth was, he was terrified of his brother getting hurt. Sammy was his world. If anything happened to him on his watch…it would destroy Dean.

"Everything we do is dangerous!" Sam argued, his voice cracking. Puberty could be a real bitch.

"I know, Sam!" Dean yelled back. He sighed, calming him self down. "It's just, we don't know anything about these werewolves. We don't even know how many are going to be there."

"You don't have to worry about me, Dean," Sam said. "I've got silver bullets and silver knives. I'm prepared. Besides, there's no way I'm letting you go by yourself. You'll get killed."

Dean was quiet as he took in Sam's words. He had a point. There was no way he could do it by himself, hell he wasn't even sure the both of them could do it. But they didn't have a choice. They had to get their father, and there was no way they could wait for Bobby. They might be keeping him alive, but they wouldn't do it forever.

Still though, putting Sam purposefully in danger went against every fiber in Dean's body. _Watch out for Sammy_. The words replayed over and over in Dean's head. Damn, his dad was going to be pissed. But, they were hunters and this was their job. And their dad needed them. Protecting his family was everything Dean had ever known. Sometimes, they had to take risks as a family to protect each other. This was one of those times.

"Okay," Dean caved, hating himself for saying it. "But you stay close, you hear me? You don't leave my side and you sure as hell don't leave my sight. You got that? You do exactly as I tell you."

"yeah, Dean, I got it."

"Alright then," Dean answered, grabbing a couple extra magazines for his pistol. He handed a couple to Sam as well. "Let's go."

As the two of them approached the warehouse, Dean couldn't help but notice how quiet it was outside. Normally, on a cold October night like this, owls would be hooting from the trees, small critters would be rummaging through the bushes. Hell, the trees would at least be whistling as the wind pushed through them. Tonight there was nothing. It was just Dean, Sam, the darkness, and the woods around them. .

"I don't like this," Sam said, echoing Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah, this just screams slasher horror flick," Dean answered, trying to take the nerves away with a light hearted joke. It wasn't really working tonight though.

"We should go around the building first," Sam said. "Make sure nothing is going to sneak up behind us."

Dean nodded. "Obviously," he answered.

Sam shot him a look, but didn't say anything. Instead, he walked forward so he was even with Dean's hip and they began to circle the building, their pistols raised. The two of them scanned their sides and occasionally would turn around to make sure no one was following behind them. They had no light so something could pop out at them at any moment. Dean felt chills creep up the back of his spine. He just wanted this to be over.

As they rounded the final corner, Dean heard the sound of a twig breaking from behind him. He whirled around, instinctively moving Sam behind him. His gun was raised and at the ready. The sheriff was in front of him, his gun raised as well.

"Hello boys," The sheriff said, a wicked grin on his face.

Dean smiled. "Howdy, sheriff," he mused. They had to play this smart. The sheriff still didn't know they knew. "You mind tellin us where our dad is?"

"He's inside," The sheriff answered. "How about you put those guns down and I'll take you to him?"

"You really think we're that stupid?" Sam asked. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm something bullets won't work against boy," he answered and flashed his yellow eyes. He must be a pureblood.

Dean almost laughed. This guy really thought they had no clue, really thought that they were just naive little boys, going in way over their head. Dean clicked his pistol back. He was about to find out otherwise.

"Good thing these aren't regular bullets," Dean said and fired, sending a loud bang echoing into the night sky.

The bullet hit the sheriff directly in the heart. Sam and Dean watched as the sheriff's eyes went wide, flashing back and forth from yellow and his regular green. He clutched at his heart, the blood oozing onto his hands. Dean saw the claws come out of his hands and the fangs come out and retract, just like the eyes had done.

"Damn it…" the werewolf choked as he collapsed onto the ground. As soon as his whole body was on the ground, he went still. He was dead. Dean felt the adrenaline rush through his veins like fire. He had really done it. He'd really killed a purebred without his father's help.

His joy was short lived however when two more wolves appeared out of the darkness. They had already transformed, and were ready to attack. Each of them had guns too, to attack at a distance. Dean swore under his breath. He was sure this wasn't the last of them either. Maybe they were in over their heads.

"Run, Sam!" Dean yelled as the bullets started spraying. The boys zig zagged to avoid the bullets and shot back at the wolves. Dean felt his heart race and paced himself a few steps behind Sam. If one of them was getting shot, it sure as hell wasn't going to be his brother. The two of them were making a straight shot to the warehouse. They'd already given themselves away. Even if Dean hadn't shot, he was sure they would've literally sniffed them out. They had to go in guns blazing and hope for the best. It was the only chance both they and their father had of surviving.

Dean heard one of the wolves wail from behind him, and turned his head just in time to see one fall. He'd been hit with a bullet, but it wasn't Dean's. It was Sam's. Dean wanted to congratulate his brother, but had to duck just as another bullet whizzed over his head. Dean fired back angrily; his brain had almost been mesh.

"We're almost to the building, Sammy! Keep pushing!" Dean yelled, noticing his brother was starting to slow down . It occurred to him then that they were probably being led to another trap. Werewolves were fast; there's no way they wouldn't have caught up to them by now.

Just then Dean felt a sharp sting in the back of his left thigh. He shouted out in agony and then he was on the ground. Dean felt a warm liquid flowing from his leg and knew he had been shot. If not for the adrenaline, he was sure he'd be feeling it a lot more. He looked back and saw the werewolf closing in on him. Damn it. They'd almost made it.

"Dean!" Sammy screamed, turning Dean's attention back to his brother. He was starting to run back towards him. Dean watched a bullet nearly hit Sam on his side. _No, Sammy_.

"Get the hell out of here, Sam!" Dean roared. "Just run!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Sam screamed back. He was in tears.

"Yes you are!" Dean yelled back. "They're not going to hurt me, Sammy. Just go!"

It was true. Dean believed they would've done it already if that were their end goal. The lone wolf wasn't even shooting anymore. They just hadn't expected Dean and Sam to fight so hard. They were just kids after all. Guess the pack forgot who trained them…

Just then, Dean saw two wolves come out of the door to the werewolf and move straight for Sam. Dean rose his gun, but the other wolf that had been chasing him kicked it away. Dean tried to fight the wolf, but there was no use. He had his arms pinned behind him in less than a second. Dean cringed as the wolf stepped on his wounded leg to really keep him from moving.

"Sam! To your left!" Dean yelled.

Sam, who'd been trying to line up a clear shot on the wolf that had Dean, moved his weapon to his left and saw the wolves coming at him with increasing speed. He only had a few seconds to get a shot off, and there was no way he'd be able to get both. Dean suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. What had he been thinking bringing his little brother here?

"shoot, Sam! Shoot and run!" Dean howled in desperation as he struggled to fight off the werewolf's grip.

It seemed to click with Sam then. He fired and Dean watched the bullet hit connect in the gut of one of the wolves. He cried out and fell to the grass, but he wasn't dead. Sam tried to fire again, but the gun only clicked. He was out of ammo. Sam's teary eyes locked with Dean's for a brief second and Dean nodded at him, telling him it was okay. Sam bolted off then as the other wolf began to chase him. Dean's heart was beating out of his chest. He was closing in on Sam fast.

"Leave him! One's enough for now!" The wolf yelled, causing his partner to stop instantly. "Help me get this one inside!"

Dean felt like he could breathe again as the werewolf began jogging towards Dean instead. As long as Sam was safe, that's all that mattered. When he reached Dean, the other hoisted Dean up by his arms. Dean grimaced, feeling his arms twisting in ways they shouldn't. He felt two claws dig their way into his neck. He didn't try to fight though; he'd gladly be taken over his brother. Hopefully Sam could get ahold of Bobby and get both him and his father out of this mess.

"Anyone tell you you boys are a pain in the ass just like your daddy?" The one holding him spit into Dean's ear.

Dean gave the wolf in front of him a cheeky grin. "What can I say, the apple doesn't fall from the tree."

The wolf snickered. His yellow eyes glowed like the sun in the darkness. Dean knew what was about to happen. His eyes just barely caught the faint outline of his brother disappearing into the wood line before a punch sent him whirling into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

_(Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. I hadnt expected this at all :). I hope you all enjoy the last few chapters as much as I'll enjoy writing them.)_

 _John_

When the shots stopped firing, that's when John got really worried. Yeah, he was freaking out when the shots were going off, but no more going off meant there was no more reason to fight. John couldn't think about what that meant. If his boys were really out there, John knew there was no way they'd be able to fight off a whole pack by themselves. They were damn good hunters for their age, but they stood no chance against a pack. Hell, John didn't even know if the boys knew what they were going up against. He hated himself for not being able to escape.

For the longest time, John hung from his chains, listening to nothing but the silence around him. The only thing he could hear was the rapid beat of his heart as he waited for the doors to open. It was either going to be his sons here for the rescue, the Alpha dragging his boys in with him, or worse... It made John sick to his stomach. If something happened to his boys, if they turned or…or if they died…that was all on John. No matter what, all this was his fault. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. Sam and Dean were all they had left. They were his world.

Suddenly, the door opened and John's worst fears were realized. The Alpha and one of his pack came in dragging Dean by the arms. He was unconscious. John instantly saw the bullet wound in his leg and the blood pouring from his nose and down his mouth. John felt a sudden rush of anger overcome him like a wildfire. He yanked at the chains as hard as he could, desperate to get to his son and to kill those bastards for hurting him.

"What did you do to him?!" John roared in an outrage, worried that his son wasn't awake. "Where's Sam?!" It terrified him Sam wasn't with his brother. There was really only one possibility that John could think of and it was the last one he wanted to be true.

"Relax, Johnny, your Sammy got away…for now." John breathed an evident sigh of relief. At least for the time being Sammy was safe. Hopefully he'd gone to get help.

" As far as Dean goes, it's just a gunshot and a little punch to the face. Nothing a Winchester couldn't handle." The Alpha said, stopping with Dean just a few feet in front of him. John's stomach twisted into knots seeing Dean's face so slack, so pale. He knew he was alive, but he was hurt pretty bad. His eyes moved down to his leg and saw his jeans were soaked with blood on the left thigh. John could've threw up. He was so used to Dean being the strong one, the one that nothing ever happened to. Seeing him like this was a somber reminder of just how fragile he was.

"Let him go," John said, his voice deadly. Hurting him was one thing, but hurting his boys? That was a death sentence.

The Alpha looked at his parter that John recognized now as Max before shrugging. "Okay, let him go."

They both released Dean at the same time, slamming him into the ground face first with a sickening thud. John wanted so badly to get down to him, to help him, but he couldn't do anything. He had never felt so helpless in his life. It was killing him. What would Mary think of him right now?

"See Johnny," Roland began. "Your boys caused us quite the trouble just a little bit ago, killed two of my pack, injured another. Turns out your boys were more prepared than we'd expected. Must be a Winchester thing."

John smiled a little. His heart swelled with pride hearing his boys had knocked down two of their pack. That meant there were just three left. It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that they were able to kill two purebreds without even knowing what a werewolf was just a day or so ago.

"How's it feel, knowing a 16 and a 12 year old got the drop on you?"

Roland smiled and stepped on Dean's wound. Dean wailed out in agony, telling John that the pain was causing him to come out of his stupor. John's smile instantly vanished. He'd never heard a cry like that from him before. He always hid his pain. Dean was hurt real bad this time.

"Stop it. Please," John begged, his voice cracking with desperation. "Just take me and let him go."

"Hmmmm, whaddya say Max? Should we let him go?" Roland taunted.

Max's face was grim. "I don't think Miley would agree to that."

Roland nodded and together the two of them hoisted Dean up. This time Max took Dean's other arm from Roland and held him up. Dean's eyes were fluttering open now, but he wasn't fully consciousness yet. John was glad to see he was waking, but was terrified at what they were about to do to him next.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes were open and they were staring at John. Dean's emerald green eyes locked with John's chocolate brown eyes and it took all John had to push back the tears. Dean looked exhausted, weak. He looked vulnerable. John hated seeing him like this.

"Hey Dad," Dean said, forcing a smile.

John didn't say anything; couldn't say anything. He felt as if he was in shock. There were just no words. Was he just supposed to say sorry for getting his son into this mess? Sorry for getting him shot? Sorry just didn't cut it.

When John didn't respond, Roland moved forward, standing next to Dean's side. "For a reunion, that was pretty lame John," Roland began. Neither of them said anything so Roland continued. "You know, earlier John, I had changed my mind. Decided out of the kindness of my heart not to turn your boys. Yeah, I was gunna rough em' up a bit, but I was going to let them go. And then, I was going to kill you." He paused, just to be dramatic. "But this? Killing one of my pack? That can't go without punishment."

"so what?" Dean speaks before John can. By the tone of his voice, John knew he was about to say something he shouldn't.

"Dean-" John cautioned.

"No, what're you going to do?" Dean spoke fearlessly to the Alpha. "The big bad wolf going to burn my house down?"

 _Damn it, Dean._

Roland smiled. "You have your father's mouth don't you?" He said, wrapping his arm around Dean's shoulders. "Too bad that's not a good thing."

The next thing John knew, Roland was sending his fist flying to Dean's gut. John let out an unexplainable roar of rage, one that could only be of a father protecting his young as Dean gasped for air and fell to the floor, the supernatural strength to much for him. He doubled over on his knees gasping.

"You son of a bitch!" John shouted, fighting as hard as he could against the chains. Roland better hope for his sake that John never gets his hands on him because if he does, he was going to rip his throat out.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Roland said, ignoring John. "Nothing to say now?"

"Eat me," Dean choked as he struggled to get to his feet. His voice was barely above a whisper; he struggled to catch his breath. . "Oh no, wait. You actually might."

 _Dean, shut up!_

Roland chuckled. Dean was still trying to get to his feet; his whole body was shaking from the blow. "What is it with you Winchesters?" He said, and kicked Dean in the ribs. John flinched and looked away as Dean cried out and fell to the floor. He couldn't bear to watch this anymore.

This time, Roland didn't stop. He straddled Dean and started punching him repeatedly in the face, not hard enough to make him go unconscious, but hard enough for blood to start pouring out of his nose and mouth again. John screamed in desperation for him to stop. He was going to kill him, right in front of him. John could see his eyes blackening already. He probably already had a concussion. He tried to escape, but Max punched his already weak body in the side, causing John to lose all his power. John felt nauseous, dizzy even. This was too much.

"Please…please stop…" John begged, the tears in his eyes now. If there was one thing John wasn't, it was a begger, but they'd broke him. He couldn't watch his son being tortured anymore. "Please…leave him alone…"

Roland stopped mid-strike then. He turned and looked at John before clawing Dean one last time in the face. "All you had to say was please, Johnny," Roland said and stepped off Dean. "Max, get him up."

John gasped. Roland was no longer blocking John's view of Dean's face. He could see everything now. Claw marks covered both of his cheeks, his eyes were red and puffy, blackening just underneath his eyelids. His nose was surely broken, and blood caked his lips and nostrils. John felt the bile in his throat. Dean hung limply in Max's grasp, unable to lift his head to look at his father. How was his son still even awake?

"Okay, John, here's the new plan," Roland said, coming face to face with him, but not within kicking distance. "I'm going to turn your boy back there, and then I'm going to cut you lose. Then, I'm going to lock the both of you in here. Your son will be ravenous, hungry for a human heart. But don't worry Johnny, I'll even give you a knife. You're going to have to make a choice. You either kill him, or you let yourself be killed by him. You let him turn into one of the monsters you've always hated. Whoever lives, I'll finish off, and then I'll find your other boy and waste him too. Any questions?"

"No…no, please. I'll do anything…" John said, shaking his head feverishly. Tears spilled from his eyes now. He couldn't wrap his head around it. How was he supposed to kill his own son? How was he supposed to let him turn? This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. He'd rather die then let either of those things happen to his son. He couldn't kill half of his heart, one of his pride and joys. John's blood ran cold. If he didn't find a way out of this fast both of his sons were going to die. His heart never felt so heavy since Mary died. John wished he could wake up from this hellish nightmare.

Roland smiled. "How does it feel, Johnny, knowing this is all your fault?" He asked, mocking John's previous question.

John couldn't answer. He just looked at his broken and bloodied son. Dean must've felt his eyes because he lifted his head, just enough for his eyes to meet John's. There was so much pain behind Dean's eyes, that John had to fight off a cry.

"Dean…I'm sorry…" John gasped, unable to find his voice.

"You kill me, you understand me?" Dean said, struggling to speak. "Don't let me become one of those things. And then you kill these douchebags and you get back to Sammy. You tell him…" he stopped, spitting blood out on the floor. "You tell him I'm sorry, and you watch over him. You tell him it's okay, and you be there for him. No more arguing, no more fighting, just be there for him because he's going to need you."

John didn't know he was crying until he felt dampness on his cheeks. His son was giving him his death wish. "Dean…I…" he trailed off. He couldn't find the words.

"Alright enough," Roland said, his voice somber, almost like he too felt bad for doing this. "Max, do it."

"NO!" John screamed.

And then Max bent down to sink his teeth into Dean's neck.


	7. Chapter 7

_(Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this next chapter! Sorry it took me so long to publish; been a super busy week for me. I will be writing one more chapter as a sort of epilogue. Thanks to everyone who has read and left kind comments. I never expected so many views :). I've enjoyed writing this very much.)_

 _Dean_

Dean closed his eyes, waiting for Max to sink his teeth into him. But, it never came. Instead, Dean heard a shot go off, and then heard a gasp coming from Max. Dean opened his eyes and looked back towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sammy standing there, Dad's extra .45 in his hand. Smoke was coming out of the barrel from the shot he'd just fired. They locked eyes and Dean smiled. He couldn't have been more proud of his little brother.

"NOOO!" The Alpha yelled in an outrage. Dean tried to move to his brother, but he couldn't. Max fell over on top of him, his dead body weight pinning Dean facedown in the cement. He tried to move him off of him, but he was too weak. He'd been seeing stars since he woke and his leg had lost a dangerous amount of blood. He vaguely heard his dad yell his name and then he was screaming for Sam. The next thing he heard made Dean sick to his stomach: a loud thud and then a shout from Sam. He could hear struggling and Dean knew he had to do something quick.

The thought of the Alpha hurting Sam sent Dean into overdrive. He used what little strength he had left mixed with a newfound adrenaline to shove Max off of him. For a moment, he lied there, breathless, until he saw the Alpha near the door, his hands around Sam's throat. Dean forced himself to his feet, but it was no use. His injured leg gave out on him in an instant. He slammed back down to the floor, nearing the verge of unconsciousness now.

"Saaaam," Dean choked out, now trying to crawl his way towards his brother. He could see Sam's face reddening as he ran out of air. Sam was going to die if he didn't get to him in the next minute or so. He was all the way across the room.

"Dean, hurry!" He heard his father yell and heard the rattle of chains as he aggressively tried to break free. Dean looked back to Sam and saw him turning blue, his face going slack. His eyes were shut now. No…

With all his might, Dean forced himself up. He screamed at the pain it caused him, but rushed forward as fast as he could, reaching for his knife in his pocket. He reached the Alpha, but he was ready for him. All he had to do was kick his foot out into Dean's leg to send him falling to the floor. Dean did the only thing he could and aimed the knife at the Alpha's leg, to avoid hitting Sam. He flung it as hard as he could and watched as it pierced the meatiest part of his thigh. He howled in pain and let go of Sam, grabbing at the knife. Dean looked at his brother who'd slid down the wall and was now clutching his throat, gasping for breath. He was alive. Dean sighed in relief.

All of a sudden, the Alpha was on top of him. He had the knife Dean threw at him in his hand and drove it down towards Dean's chest. He heard his father yell, and Dean managed to grab it just before he could finish the blow and fought against his weight for dear life. The both of them roared as they battled each other's strength. The only reason Dean was even able to fight against him was because he'd weakened him with the knife. The silver was moving through his body like poison. Dean wouldn't be alive otherwise.

Just as the tip of the knife poked Dean's chest, Sam suddenly appeared above them. Dean watched as he took a knife of his own and pierced the Alpha's chest. His eyes went wide and began flashing like the sheriff's as he stared in shock at the knife sticking out of his body. Blood began to trickle out of his lip and Dean knew it was over now. He used the last bit of fight in him to roll off Dean and claw Sam in the face. Sam went tumbling to the ground as the Alpha collapsed next to Dean, dead. They'd done it. They'd really done it.

Dean was up in an instant, crawling to Sam who was lying motionless on his stomach. Thankfully, he wasn't too far away this time and he'd reached him in just a few seconds. "Sammy…" Dean said, turning his little body over. He lifted his brother so he was sitting up straight and shook his shoulders lightly. "Hey Sammy, come on…you with me little brother?"

Sam's eyes opened then, and Dean smiled. His little body had taken a pretty bad beating, cuts and bruises on his face and arms and a large claw-mark on his cheek that was bleeding pretty good, but Sam was alive. They were all alive and that's all that mattered. They could recover from this as long as they had each other.

"Hey Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked softly, holding the sides of his head and brushing some hair out of his face.

Sam nodded slowly, holding onto Dean's forearms. He was still coming to and was struggling to catch his breath. "I'm…good…" he finally said.

Dean touched Sam's cheek gently and rested his forehead against Sam's for a quick moment. He'd been so afraid he was going to lose his little brother. "I thought I told you to run away."

Dean leaned back and saw a weak grin slowly spread on Sam's face. "Someone had to save your asses."

"Bitch," Dean said with a laugh.

"Jerk," Sam responded.

"I'm going to go get Dad," Dean said, already moving towards the Alpha's body. He had to have the key to the shackles. "You just sit here and catch your breath."

"Yeah, okay Dean…" Sam said compliantly.

It didn't take long for Dean to find the keys in the Alpha's pocket. He stood up slowly, feeling a wave of dizziness hit him when he got to his feet. He stood a moment, took a deep breath, and then began limping towards his father. Dean didn't know why he was so nervous to finally talk to his father. He didn't know what to expect, but he was sure he was going to get an ass chewing. Sam almost died, and that would've been on Dean. That was unacceptable and Dean knew that. He should get his ass chewed for that.

When Dean got to his dad, he found himself smiling sheepishly. "Hey, Dad…" he said, not knowing what else to say. It was like he hadn't seen him for years and was now running into him at an awkward family reunion.

Dean was expecting anger, but saw only sadness in his father's eyes. "Dean…you're beat to hell, son."

"I could say the same about you," Dean replied with a small laugh and reached up to undo the chains. He twisted until he heard a click and then the shackles came undone, releasing his father. Dean tried his best to catch him, but his leg buckled and the two of them collapsed to the floor on their knees. A sharp pain erupted through Dean's leg and he did his best to ignore it. He wanted to stay strong for his father.

When John grabbed Dean's face in his hands like Dean had done to Sam, he couldn't hide his surprise. His father never showed much sentiment, but Dean had never minded too much. That was just who he was. He seemed to really be taking in Dean for the first time. He rubbed Dean's bruised cheek softly. "Dean…I'm so sorry…you and Sam…you could've died…I thought…I thought…" he trailed off, unable to finish.

"It's okay, Dad," Dean told him. "We're fine. You're fine. We handled it." He smiled a little. "We learned from the best, you know."

Dean watched his father stare at him a moment before pulling him into a hug. Dean hesitated a moment before he, too, wrapped his arms around his father. His father held his head tightly with one arm as his other wrapped around his shoulders. He must've really thought they were going to die. This was so not like him at all.

"Hey, Dad," a tiny voice said from behind them. They both pulled out of the hug to see Sam standing above them, his lip quivering. He was about to break down. Sometimes Dean forgot how much of a kid Sam still was. He must've been scared out of his mind this whole time. He never showed it until now though, not once. The kid was tough as nails. He was definitely a Winchester.

"Come here, Sammy," John said and then the three of them just sat on the floor hugging each other. Dean held his crying brother and his father tightly to him. It was hitting him now. He'd almost lost the both of them today. He hoped nothing like this ever happened again. He was nothing without his family. They were the only thing that kept him going. He couldn't live without them.

After a long moment, the three of them collectively pulled out of the hug. One thing was evident. They were all ready to get the hell out of this place. "Do you think you can walk, Dad?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," John answered. "They've weakened me. I haven't eaten or drank much in days. What about you? You've been shot, Dean. You need to get that leg looked at."

"I'll be fine," Dean answered, waving off his concern. Truthfully, he hurt like hell and was on the verge of passing out. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

"As soon as we get back to the car, I'm stitching you up, Dean," John told him, finality in his voice. Dean knew there was no arguing with him.

"Yes sir," Dean said and together he and Sam hoisted their father up.

Together, they started walking towards the door very slowly. Dean's leg was screaming at him and his head was pounding out of his skull. He half slumped into his father and John held him close to him. Dean didn't know if he was helping his dad walk, or if his dad was helping him. They leaned on each other equally for support. Sam grunted from having to pull the majority of the weight.

Dean didn't realize just how weak his father was until now. It made sense though. . He hadn't been moving in a while and he'd been deprived of food, sleep, and water. His wrists were red from the shackles. He'd taken a hell of a beating. Sam was the best out of all of them, but Dean knew even he was hurting. They all deserved a vacation after this one, not like it'd ever happen.

"You boys and I are going to have to have a long talk when we get back," their father said as they walked, nearly breathless. There was the lecture Dean was waiting for. "Coming after me was stupid and reckless. And not even knowing what you were hunting? The both of you are lucky to be alive."

"We had no choice, Dad," Dean said simply. "You were just gone. We had to find you."

"Besides," Sam said. "We figured it out didn't we?"

"Yeah, you did," John said, trying to sound angry but Dean knew he didn't have the heart to be right now. "But, the next time you boys do something like this again, it won't be the monsters you gotta worry about ya hear me? I don't want you guys out by yourselves yet, not until you've practiced more. Especially you, Sam. I didn't even let Dean hunt until he was fourteen."

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Dean said. He wanted to argue, to tell his dad that he was clearly ready, but he kept his mouth shut. Whatever his father said, went. Besides, he was too tired to argue anyways. All he wanted was an ice cold beer and a nap at this point.

"You're welcome by the way," Sam said, causing Dean to have to hide a smile. Sometimes, Sam's defiance and attitude towards his father pissed him off to no end, but sometimes Sam was exactly right to do it. This was one of those times.

Their dad, of course, ignored Sam's comment. They were pretty much at the door right by the Alpha's body, when John stopped suddenly. "Sam, hand me your pistol," he commanded.

Sam looked at him confused for a moment before reaching behind his back and pulling Dean's pistol out of his jeans. "Here's Dean's," he said and then handed him a magazine with it. When Dean looked over at him, he grinned. "Picked it up on the way in after I finished off the wolf I injured."

Dean grinned back at his brother. That kid was something else. The two of them watched as John walked towards the Alpha's bodies. Dean knew what he was about to do and told Sam to look away. Fortunately, Sam listened without argument and the two of them looked at the cement floor as John emptied his rounds into the werewolf's body. Dean knew the Alpha must've really struck a nerve with his father. He'd always told him and Sam that they were only to do what was necessary to get the job done, nothing more, nothing less. He never believed in sheer brutality, never condoned it.

"That's for my boys you sonofabitch," Dean heard his father say. Dean couldn't lie and say that it didn't make him feel good.

Dean was about to say something when they heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. Both Sam and Dad already had their pistols raised and at the ready. Dean held onto his other knife in his pocket. He knew it wouldn't do much good, but he didn't have a choice at the moment. Their father moved in front of the both of them, ready to shoot whatever came running through that door.

However, what came through that door was no monster at all. It was Bobby Singer, accompanied by Caleb and Pastor Jim. John and Sam both sighed and lowered their weapons instantly. Dean nearly laughed at their expressions as the three of them looked from the Dean, Sam, and John to the bodies, and then finally back to them. All of them came in guns blazing, ready to kill whatever got in their way.

"Guess we missed the party," Bobby said finally, lowering his weapon.

"Ya think?" Dean replied sarcastically.

"You called Bobby?" John asked. Dean could hear the irritation in his voice. He could be so damn stubborn.

"We didn't have much of a choice, Dad," Dean said, sounding a little annoyed himself.

"Good to see you too, John," Bobby responded, his voice clipped. "Didn't I tell you boys to wait?"

Dean looked over at his brother and then the both of them grinned sheepishly at their Uncle Bobby. "Sorry, Bobby. Musta misheard. Bad connection ya know?"

"Right," Bobby said. "Well, you boys get back to the car. The three of us will take care of this mess."

"Bobby," John said, clearing his throat. "Dean's been shot. Think you can stitch him up? You've always been better at that sort of stuff."

"Holy hell boys," Bobby said, seeming to really take in Sam and Dean for the first time. "Of course, I'll stitch him up John, and then I'll clean Sam and you up to. I'll go with you to the car right now. Caleb and Jim can clean this up themselves for now."

"Yeah, we got this. Y'all get goin," Caleb said, already moving towards Max's body. "Good to see you guys by the way. It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has," John replied. "Good to see you too, Caleb."

"We can all catch up later," Paster Jim responded. "For now, let's get those boys patched up and get out of this place before the cops get here."

Dean got a little woozy then and nearly fell over. John was at his side in an instant, holding his back steady so he wouldn't fall. "You okay, son?"

"Yeah…" Dean replied tiredly, rubbing his temple. His head was killing him. Sooner or later, he _would_ pass out. "Yeah…I'm good.…"

Bobby suddenly appeared at Dean's other side. "Here John, I've got him," he said, taking one of Dean's arms and wrapping it around his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around Dean's waist and hoisted him up so that Dean wouldn't have to use much weight on his feet. Dean sighed gratefully. He could go for some morphine right about now.

John was a little reluctant before finally letting Dean go. "Thanks Bobby," Dean said, but he knew he was forcing himself to say it. When Dad was mad at someone, he stayed mad. He was the worst when it came to forgiveness.

"Don't mention it," Bobby responded. "Sam, you think you can help your daddy out of here?"

Dean glanced over and saw Sam smiling. He'd really missed Bobby; they both had. "Yeah, Uncle Bobby. I've got him."

"Alright then, let's get the hell out of here," Bobby responded.

And that's exactly what they did.


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

 _Dean_

 _Bang_! Dean Winchester fired his pistol at one of the tin cans he had set up in the back of Bobby Singer's salvage yard. He smiled as he heard a _clink_ and watched the tin can fall off the top of one of Bobby's junker cars onto the gravel below. His left eye had been swollen shut for the plast two weeks and had finally just opened a couple days ago. He was glad Bobby had convinced a reluctant John to make them stick around while they all recovered.

As far as the rest of his body, Dean was still healing slowly. Bobby had to take a small bullet fragment out of his leg and stitch him up. He popped Dean's nose back into place, but it still hurt like a bitch. His ribs had been badly bruised and he'd had a pretty severe concussion for a few days, but the pain was beginning to subside now. He expected to feel fully normal in a couple weeks, but he'd already told his dad he was ready to hunt. He didn't want his dad to see him as weak.

"You shoot like a girl," A young voice said from behind him.

Dean turned around and saw his little brother standing in front of him, his arms folded with a smirk on his face. Sammy looked good. He'd spent a couple days sleeping and resting, but after that he was pretty much good. His cuts had closed up into small, red, thin lines and his bruises were now a faded green. Sam had spent most of the past couple weeks helping Bobby rehydrate John and patch up some minor wounds while also helping Dean heal. Dean was happy Sammy had taken the least of the blows.

"Least I don't look like one, Samantha," Dean retorted, motioning to his shaggy hair with his hand.

"Shut up," Sam said. "So Dad said tomorrow we're going to leave. We gotta get our stuff from the motel back in Chesterton and book it. Said child services would be all over our asses for us missing so much school, even with Dad calling them. I think he has another hunt lined up anyways."

"Damn it," Dean swore. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know you had some good friends there."

Sam shrugged, kicking the rocks at his feet. "It doesn't matter," he said. "All that matters is that we got Dad back."

Dean nodded. He was glad Sam saw it that way. No matter how much the two of them butted heads, Sam loved their dad and Dean saw that now. He knew John loved Sam too, he just had a crappy way of showing it most of the time.

"Anyways, you should probably pack up soon," Sam continued. "You know how Dad gets. Once he has something on his mind, it has to happen sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, okay, Sammy."

"Okay, Dean," Sam responded and began to walk away.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called, limping after him.

Sam stopped and turned back towards his brother. "Yeah?" He asked.

"You know, we made a pretty good team back there," Dean told him. He meant it too. With more experience and training, the two of them would be unstoppable together. Throw Dad in the mix and none of them would have to worry about a hunt ever again. Dean liked the thought of the two of them hunting together, loved it actually.

For a moment, Sam just stood there, no sound but the birds chirping happily on the sunny fall day. Then, he smiled. "Yeah, yeah we did didn't we?"

"Just think, Sam. 10 years from now we'll be giving Dad a run for his money."

At that Sam looked down at his feet. Dean's heart immediately fell. Deep down he knew Sam didn't want to make this a career. He knew Sam would want to go to school, try to have some sort of normal life. It was Dean's biggest wish for Sam, but it didn't make it any easier. Sammy was all Dean had besides his father. He selfishly hoped he and his brother would spend their entire lives with each other. The thought of Sam leaving tore him apart.

"Yeah…yeah we would," Sam said and tuned and walked away with a sad smile.

Dean stared after his brother for a moment before turning back to his shooting. He tried not to think about his brother not being around, but the thought wouldn't leave his head no matter how hard he tried. He knew it was a very real possibility, but he hoped with all his heart it never happened. This life was one you couldn't get out of…wasn't it? That's what their father had always told them at least.

Back inside Bobby's house, Dean heard talking coming from Bobby's kitchen. He stayed quiet and walked until he saw Bobby and John sitting at the kitchen table, both drinking some type of whiskey. Dean quickly moved out of sight and stood behind a wall. He didn't like to eavesdrop, but his dad's hushed voice had him curious. Normally, his dad could be heard across 7 states.

"I messed up bad, Bobby," Dean heard his father say. The smell of chili cooking on the stove filled his nostrils. One good thing about these past couple weeks had been the home-cooked meals…even if they had been just about the same thing every time.

"Enough with the self- loathing, John," Bobby said. Dean knew he was irritated by the inflection in his voice.

"I'm serious Bobby. If you would've seen the way they were hurting Dean…they were so brutal, Bobby, and all I could do was watch. If Sam hadn't have gotten there…Bobby they could've died. What would I have—" he trailed off.

Dean leaned in closer now, his heart beating faster as he realized the conversation was about him and Sam. It wasn't often, actually Dean never really heard his father's true feelings.

"But they didn't die, John. Sam came and they took care of it. Know why? Cuz they were raised by one of the best damn hunters I've ever seen. Just think if you hadn't have trained them and they'd still come. All three of you'd be dead by now. You should do less self-loathing and be proud of your boys, They did a whole hunt by themselves. Only told them the monster."

"Yeah, I'm still pissed at you for that by the way, Singer," John responded, but he didn't sound too angry. "And of course I'm proud, more proud then they'll ever know. But, it scares me. Them being out there by themselves, hunting, it scares the shit out of me. Look at how bad Dean was hurt just from one hunt. I can't watch that happen again, to either of them. They're all I've got left, Bobby."

Dean felt his face redden. It was nice to hear this from his father. He only wished Sam were here to hear it too. Maybe it'd change his mind on how he viewed John.

"They're growing up, John. Sooner or later, they're going to be out hunting on their own full time. It sucks, but that's life. You gotta let em' out of the cage, John. Every parent goes through this. You're always going to worry, but that's your job. It's what any good father would do."

John scoffed. "Good father…right. I've turned my eldest into a robot soldier and my youngest is going to hate me when he's older, I can feel it. We're too much alike; we buttheads too much. I couldn't have been a worse father to them."

"No one's perfect, John," Bobby replied. "I never said you were a perfect father, but you're a good one, John. You and I both know you love those boys more than anything in this world, and they know you'd be there for them any time they needed you. You've raised those boys to be brace, fighting men. Those boys are heroes, John. Not many fathers can do that."

"Sounds like you're describing yourself more than me, Singer," John replied with a lighthearted laugh. These two weeks had been good for the two of them. Dean felt they'd gotten closer again, even if John wouldn't forgive him. These past two weeks had really made him miss the monthly trips, sometimes weekly, to Uncle Bobby's. It was the closest he's ever had to a home since his mom died.

Bobby returned the laugh. "Hey, never said I didn't have nothin' to do with it. Now, quit being such a sally, John. You got a hunt waiting for you in Ohio. Suggest you let your boys take lead on this one. Just make sure Dean is okay with that leg of his."

Dean heard the chairs slide against the floor as the two of them got out of their chairs. He didn't wait any longer and limped towards the stairs quietly and out of sight. He couldn't hide the huge smile on his face as he went slowly up to his room to pack his things.

His dad was proud of him.


End file.
